The raindrops in the air,
Feel like static on my skin,
Like broken pins and needles,
Finding their way in.

I can't stop struggling for air,
In the humid summer breeze,
My lips and lungs damp,
And forgetting how to breathe.

Choking on sunlight,
Strangled by the heat,
But drowned gently.

I have written of being lonely more times than I can count,
When I am still surrounded by my friends,
But there is a shadow behind me,
Longing to be replaced,
By a soft embrace,
And the colour of some dream's eyes.

I've drawn and I've imagined more days than I could know,
Of letting my heart fuse with another,
Of handing over my desires,
My time, my hope, my life,
To one, who'd share their own with me:
The colour of their dream's eyes.

So though I'm not alone,
And have loved and been loved before,
I still know what I'm missing,
And I can't stop wishing for it back,
So excuse me if I hold your gaze too long,
Looking for the right shade,
The colour of my dream's eyes.

Learning for so long,
Becoming mechanical,
But the rhythm dies.

I must miss the chaos,
Or the promise of surprise,
Or the perfect excuse to relax.
Why else would I feel so lost now I know where I'm going?
I wanted to be missing,
Searching,
Wandering with no goal,
But now all those mysteries I craved have been solved.
I know how to get there now,
I recognise each step,
Like a path I've walked before,
Not at home,
But maybe an early morning in Ireland,
Where we stayed for a while,
Where I used to wander,
Like remembering a picture,
But not quite sure when it was,
Each step feels like that.
Like a memory,
Not a journey.

Air devoid of feeling,
Stale discontent,
Flashes on the back of my eyelids,
Echoes in my head.

A song with no meaning,
Or none to be heard,
A fire in my belly,
But no passion, only burns.

Fear contained by anger,
Stress obscured by grief,
My heart and tongue are drying,
My tears are no relief.

They cannot dampen the pain,
Only add salt into the wound.

Rage.
The jaws open: A growl,
Painted with bright orange.
Breaths of thick soot,
Choking the sky,
Screaming from the ground,
Ripping wood to dust,
Splinters to ash.

There was such life in his eyes,
Such energy,
That far surpassed his body's limits.

So keen to speak,
To tell of all his years,
And to learn of new ones to come.

No fear of change crept into his mind,
Always looking forward,
Never "It was better in the old days" but rather "It was different".

A man led by a love of God,
Who led him to touch hearts,
And raise spirits.

And the finest mark of such a man,
That in memory we laughed before we cried.

All around is pulled tight,
Strings of panic interwoven,
Wrapped round each other,
Fibres ripping fibres,
Fraying until they break,
Releasing bolts of fury,
Charging the air,
So I can feel it in my skin,
And I can't help,
But close up and shake,
For the stress of those around.

Hell, or something close to it,
Or worse;
For they would have longed for the warmth of fire -
To feel more than the sodden stink of their boots
And the thunder of Howitzers in their bones.
But they knew the victory was coming.

Eight days, that would be enough.
Letting death fall
In the half-silence of creeping gas
And the unrelenting barrage of mortar fire
Raining like demonic hail upon the enemy.
They knew that victory was coming.

So they walked, that's all it would take -
A stroll to be heroes.
But all the waiting, enduring, lasting out
To climb up onto the crater-filled sludge,
Mown down in thousands,
And only then did they realise:
Victory was so much further away.

Compressed
Contorted
Into broken shapes
And pulled
Stretched
Strained
Into forms I hate
Twisted
Deformed
Beyond recognition
I am moulded with no care

I want to get angry, upset,
I want to shout at the world when no-one will hear me.
I want to scream in my head
and rip down the walls that keep me trapped here.
I want to mess up my makeup
and run through the night and let out tears and cries and breathless pleas.
I want to stand on the rooftops,
I want to curse the stars for always being the same.
I want to break my wrist falling down
and make it worse just to make a statement.
I want to let out my rage,
but I am too scared to be true,
So I'll simmer here and beat myself up instead.

My heart's begging to be broken,
For some love-tangled tragedy,
To rip me to shreds,
And for maybe an hour,
I want to care about nothing else.

I was longing for someone,
So I wrote her story in my head,
And songs on my guitar,
For a while she was my whole life,
But even she turned away.

And maybe that's what I wanted,
To feel the full cycle,
All the way from bliss to utter sorrow,
For it seems no part exists,
Without another.

I just want the world to go away.
I admit I am weak,
Not 'resilient' enough to cope,
I shouldn't have to cope,
I want to live and love,
And love to live,
But instead I just want it all to go,
Every sound,
Every scent,
The beauty that I crave,
That drives my pen,
I want it gone.
Every essence of this life,
Is hollow,
And echoes around my head,
I just want the world to go away.